


A Shift in Perspective

by DizzyDrea



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank Griffin took a long pull on his beer, his gut unclenching for the first time in what felt like ages. <i>The conversation after the revelation.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shift in Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> I've said a few times over the summer that I thought it would be Hank who'd find out about Nick first, and lo and behold, that's exactly how it went down. I loved the goofy grin of relief on Hank's face at the end of the episode, as if just knowing that he's not completely crazy had made his entire year. So, of course, Muse had to write about it.
> 
> Post-ep for _Bad Moon Rising_ ; spoilers for _Pilot_ , _Game Ogre_ , _Three Coins in a Fuchsbau_ , _Plumed Serpent_ , _Love Sick_ , _Big Feet_ , _Bad Moon Rising_.
> 
> ETA: Now with a [podfic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3765982) by  the lovely and talented [CatsViolin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsViolin/pseuds/CatsViolin). Thanks, doll!
> 
> Disclaimer: Grimm is the property of NBC, Universal Television, GK Productions, Hazy Mills Productions, Open 4 Business Productions LLC and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Hank Griffin took a long pull on his beer, his gut unclenching for the first time in what felt like ages.

"I really saw that," he said. "That was real."

"Yes, that was real."

Nick Burkhardt gazed at him from the sofa of Hank's cramped apartment with patience and maybe a bit of exasperation, but Hank wasn't going to stop asking. He felt like he'd just emerged from a long night into the sunlight. It was going to take a while to sink in.

"And you see that—" he wiggled his finger at his face "—weird shit all the time?"

Nick smirked. "Yep."

"Damn." Hank took another sip of his beer. "Must be weird, huh?"

"You have no idea," Nick said, sighing heavily. 

Nick sipped at his own beer, his eyes taking on a faraway look. Hank could see the stress and pain in the pinched look on his face, a pang of sympathy blooming in his chest. He understood now—or at least he understood better—what all the red flags had been. He'd been a cop for a long time, and he'd trained himself to notice things, so it hadn't escaped his notice that Nick had started acting… weird. Nothing really concrete, but little things that just didn't add up. Like when he looked like he'd stayed up all night cramming for midterms, but when Hank asked, he'd just say he'd hadn't slept well. Or when Nick would say he was going to do some research or interview a witness, and he'd disappear for hours only to return with information but no clear explanation for where it had come from.

It wasn't that he was mad at his partner for keeping a secret. Everyone had secrets. Hell, he'd kept a few in his time. It was just that this particular secret had rocked his world, so he could only imagine what it had been like for Nick, who was normally an open book and happy to be so.

"So, when did this start?" he asked into the silence. Nick had offered to explain everything; at the time all Hank had cared about was that he wasn't crazy—well, not too crazy, anyway. Now, though, he found himself full of questions. "When did you start seeing—"

"Weird shit?"

It was Hank's turn to smirk. "Funny."

Nick's smile slid off his face. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, the beer bottle balanced between his hands. "You remember the day I bought Juliette's engagement ring?"

Hank's eyebrows raced for his hairline. "That long?"

"Yeah," Nick said, smiling sadly. "My aunt showed up that night, asking me whether I'd been seeing things I couldn't explain."

Hank snorted. "She don't know the half of it."

"That's when she told me about being a Grimm," Nick said quietly. "And then she was attacked."

"She didn't tell you anything else?"

"No," Nick said, shaking his head. "Well, she said we have to hunt down the bad ones. And she told me to follow my instincts. But as instruction manuals go, it lacked something."

"Like instructions?" Hank said sarcastically.

"Basically," Nick said, nodding. "She left me her trailer. It's filled with all these… books. Journals, really, from my ancestors, that detail the wesen, their biology and physiology, strengths, weaknesses, habits and customs, plus a torture chambers' worth of weapons, and herbs and potions I don’t have the faintest idea of what to do with. The damned thing is like an Airstream TARDIS."

Hank chuckled at the description. Juliette had gotten them both hooked on Doctor Who not long after they'd met. It was quirky and strange, but they'd all seemed to bond over it. "Kinda makes you The Doctor, then, doesn't it?"

"Ha ha," Nick said. 

"So, what does it mean, being a Grimm?" Hank asked.

Nick shrugged. "I wish I knew. My aunt told me we're descended from the Brothers' Grimm, hence the name. According to a friend of mine, the Grimm were like the profilers of the wesen world, but somewhere along the line they became creature hunters. Now, the Grimm are feared. Most of the time, wesen react the way Carly did—cowering in fear and begging not to be killed." He grimaced. "I hate that."

"You're the least likely guy I know to shoot first and ask questions later," Hank said. "Not even the bad guys, and you're a cop."

"I know," Nick said, exasperated. "I feel like I should just make a sign: 'I'm not that kind of Grimm.' It'd be faster."

"'Hi, my name is Nick and I’m a recovering monster-killer?'"

"You are just a barrel of laughs today, aren't you?" Nick asked, shooting him a pointed glare that lacked any real heat. Hank could see relief lurking there, just below the surface, and his smile grew. It was good to see that pinched look retreat just a little.

"Hey, I was ready for the nuthouse this morning," Hank said. "I'm just glad I'm not really seeing things. Well, I mean, things that aren't there, anyway."

"Oh, they're there, all right," Nick said. He took another sip of beer. "Every time I turn around, I'm seeing some new wesen I've never encountered before. It's like they're following me around, waiting to scare the shit out of me. Just once, I'd like to investigate an all-human crime, you know?"

"Wait, you mean more of these things are showing up at work?" Hank asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Yeah, it's like every wesen crime lands on my desk, now that I'm a Grimm."

Hank sifted back through his memories, trying to pick out the cases where things hadn't added up. There were the obvious ones, but he knew there had to be more.

"Brinkerhoff?"

"He's—or, at least he was—a _wildermann_. Kinda like Big Foot."

"I guess that makes sense," Hank said, leaning back and sipping at his beer. "He did have big feet."

"He did that," Nick agreed, leaning back and relaxing into the sofa.

"What about that arson case?" Hank asked. "You know, the one with the weird accelerant."

" _Daemonfeuer_."

That one needed little translation. "Fire demon? Damn."

"Closest thing to a dragon you'll get in Portland," Nick said. He dropped his gaze, watching his fingers pick at the label on the bottle. "His daughter kidnapped Juliette."

"She what?" Hank nearly roared, sitting up and slamming the bottle down on the coffee table. "Why didn't you report it?"

"What was I supposed to say, Hank?" Nick shouted back, sitting up, his grey eyes flashing angrily. "'Guys, a dragon kidnapped my girlfriend, and now I have to go rescue her.' Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?"

Hank subsided, dropping back into his chair. "Yeah, I know exactly how crazy that sounds."

Nick's gaze turned sheepish as he settled back into the couch cushions. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay, man," Hank said, waving him off. He reached out and scooped up his beer, finishing it off in one long swallow. "I'd be pissed off, too, if some crazy guy's crazy daughter grabbed my girl."

They sat in silence for a few moments as Hank searched his memories for other cases where things just hadn't added up.

"Oleg Stark was one," he said quietly, knowing without Nick's answer that he was right.

"Stark was a _siegbarste_ ," Nick said, confirming his suspicions. "Like the giant from _Jack and the Beanstalk_. Big, dumb and hard to kill."

"Wait, that was you, with the elephant gun?" Hank asked, the reference to the large caliber bullet in the forensics report flashing through his mind. But almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he was wrong, and waved Nick off when he made to answer. "Of course it wasn't you. You were in the hospital. So, who?"

Nick's expression turned sheepish again. "Ah, that was my friend, Monroe."

"Monroe," Hank said, trying to figure out why he knew that name. Then, it hit him. "Wait, Monroe. Isn't he that weird clock guy? The one we liked for that kidnapping last year? Robin Howell, right?"

Nick winced. "Yeah, that's Monroe. Although, to be fair, he wasn't involved in the kidnapping."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"What?"

"He's a—what did you call it? A wesen?" 

Nick nodded. " _Blutbad_. A wolf."

"He's a werewolf?" Hank asked, incredulous. Although, when he stopped to think about it, it all made some perfect—if weird—sense.

"Not a werewolf, exactly," Nick said. He was squirming uncomfortably, like he wasn't sure Hank was going to like what he would say next.

"Spit it out," Hank ordered him.

Nick shot him a glare, but did as he asked. "More like The Big, Bad Wolf."

"From _Red Riding Hood_?" Hank asked. Then the penny dropped. "The red clothes. Like the guy we shot? He was a _blutbad_ , too?"

"Yeah," Nick said, exhaling forcefully. He sat up then, his eyes pleading with his friend. "You have to understand, Hank, I don't go looking for these cases. They just seem to, I don't know, drop into my lap. And it's so hard, investigating these wesen without being able to tell you—or the Captain, or Wu—anything about where I get my leads, why I think the way I do. I hate having to lie to everyone— _everyone_ —I care about. It eats me up inside, but there's nothing I can do about it. Not a fucking thing."

"Hey," Hank said, catching and holding his friend's eyes. "You don't have to lie anymore, not to me. I get it, now. I've seen what you see. I know there are monsters hiding in plain sight. Judging by the way I reacted, I'm guessing that the average citizen would have a full-on freak-out. I'm just glad most people around here are more granola than gun-toting crazy."

Nick chuckled. He sobered when he looked back up at Hank. "Thanks. For understanding. Juliette—I tried to tell her, but she thought I was lying. Or crazy, I'm not sure which. Then she went into the coma and now she doesn't even know who I am. Which means we're starting over again—I hope—but this time I'm going to have to lie to her from the start."

Hank didn't know what to say to that, so he just stayed quiet. He liked Juliette, and she remembered him. But to live with the woman you love, who doesn't remember you at all must be its own special kind of hell, and he wasn't sure how Nick was going to cope.

"I'm here for you, you know that, man," he said instead. "Whatever you need. Home, work, whatever. All you gotta do is pick up the phone."

"Thanks," Nick said. He subsided back into the couch.

"Did you ever figure out how it happened?" Nick winced. "What? What aren't you telling me?"

Nick took a deep breath. "You remember Adalind?"

Hank's stomach soured. "How could I forget?" He took in the way Nick wouldn't look at him, the pained expression on his face, and his heart sank. "Her, too?"

"She's what's known as a _hexenbiest_ ," Nick said quietly. "The nearest analogy I can find is the witch from _Snow White_. They're these hideous creatures, and they use potions and spells to manipulate people. That's what she did to you, manipulated you by using some sort of… well, the technical term is zaubatrank, but it's just a potion with a healthy dose of magic tossed in."

"Magic," Hank said, disbelieving. "You really think there's a such thing as magic?"

Nick sighed. "You remember those coins that everyone was so hot to get their hands on?" At Hank's nod, he went on. "Well, they've got some powerful magic attached to them. They give the owner an undeniable charisma and power; eventually they make people want to follow that person, no matter the cost."

"That's what happened to me, isn't it?" Hank asked quietly. "I had the coins, and they made me… feel invincible, like I could take on the whole criminal underworld and win, singlehandedly."

He shivered when he thought about it, about what he would have done, what he'd been willing to do because of what the coins did to him. Even now it scared him just a little.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Nick said.

"So, magic, huh?" Hank said. A small smile tipped his lips. "So, what else have I been missing?"

"How much beer have you got?" Nick shot back, his own smile peeking out from around the lip of his bottle.

Hank stood up, taking the now-empty bottle from his friend's hand. "I've got a case in the fridge and all the time in the world."

Nick's smile felt a little like the sun coming out on a cloudy day, it was so bright and relieved. His own answering smile seemed to carry away the stress and fear of the last few weeks. He headed into the kitchen, dumping their empty bottles in the recycling bin—this _was_ Portland, after all—and pulling fresh ones out of the fridge.

When he returned to the living room, he handed over the bottle and settled himself down in his favorite chair. "Now, start talking."

He didn't miss the relieved smile on his friend's face. He listened intently as Nick talked about all the creatures he'd encountered—and some he'd only heard of. Hank figured the more he knew, the better prepared he'd be.

After all, there were monsters out there that needed slaying, and he wasn't going to leave his friend to do it alone.

~Finis

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Podfic!) A Shift in Perspective](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765982) by [CatsViolin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsViolin/pseuds/CatsViolin)




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